


Ripple Effect

by Writer_Incognito



Category: Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Apprentice - Freeform, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Illnesses, Industrial Revolution, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Sickness, Thief (2014)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Incognito/pseuds/Writer_Incognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrett knew that actions carried consequences. He had not considered how far reaching his were.<br/>During one of his usual night time jobs he slips and injures himself quite severely. The Queen of Beggars tries to open his eyes and she gives him more than he bargained for.<br/>Set after the 2014 game and after freeing Erin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thieves' Highway

Everything felt different after freeing Erin from the primal, Garret mused. She’d gone into hiding after the incident, not contacting Basso or himself in anyway. In fact Basso had gone looking for her, but had come up empty handed. Garret had passed by her old hide-out once, but found it dusty and unused. 

Concluding that she wanted to be left alone, Garret had ceased looking for her and suggested to Basso to do the same.

Garret had thrown himself at work after that, keeping both himself and Basso busy, but somehow the thievery and loot didn’t feel like it did before. It failed to restore the situation to normal.

The euphoria of success of each successful heist seemed to grow paler for and Garret didn’t like it. If he didn’t have thieving to live for, he didn’t know what would replace it. 

The world seemed grey, even greyer than a rainy night usually was.

 

He tried to shake the feeling of, as he snuck over the rooftops towards a nobles town apartment in order to collect the painting Basso had ordered. The cold wet weather meant that most people has shut their windows and few were out in the street, making his job way too easy. On the other hand that usually meant that people lit more candles and bigger fires inside, he mused, almost looking forward to the challenge.

However, to his disappointment, the house was empty, the masters out and the servants gone to bed. All was dark and except for a creaky window he faced absolutely no difficulties. He got in, cut the painting out, and walked out. Clean and simple and fully covered in darkness. Boring.

Safely stashing the painting where Basso would find it in the morning, he set course toward the old chapel in Mourning Side. He didn’t exactly know why, but that was where the shadows took him.

The Queen of Beggars sat at a chess table, nursing a steaming cup of tea in her hands. Her misty eyes looked far away at nothing in particular. Nonetheless Garret’s presence was immediately detected.

“Master Thief, what brings you to the chapel at night? Come to share with those who are needing?” the old woman asked, her voice bouncing of the walls and made it sound stronger than it actually was.

Garret approached her and put down a purse of gold coins, without saying anything. Again he reminded himself that his stealing wasn’t about the gold. She moved her face towards the sound of the purse distributing its weight on the table.

“Silent as ever, I see,” The queen commented and a twist at the corner of her mouth betrayed that she was very aware about the pun. Garret sat down opposite her.

“Play with me,” she ventured and gestured the chess game in front of them.

“No,” he answered and for a while it seemed as though that was all she was going to get from him, but then he continued, “-that’s Basso’s game.”

“What is your game?” the old woman asked and sipped on her tea.

“Thieving,” he answered flatly. She smiled crookedly, successfully bringing even more wrinkles to her face.

“Well, I can’t challenge you there. What do you want?”

Garret drew a breath, hesitating, “- is the balance restored?”

“Yes, it’s returning to normal. The gloom is fading and all is well, but you are not, are you?”

“You said once that I bring change. What did you mean?” Garret asked, ignoring her question. 

“That is what the energy shows me, Master Thief. It still shows me change, but it seems to be unclear whether it is with you or the city.”

Garret stood up and looked away.

“Are you feeling well, Garret?” the old woman suddenly asked him with genuine concern that took him by surprise, making him face her again. He furrowed his brow and studied her with intent. He didn’t find what he was looking for.

“Fine,” he answered and disappeared into the shadows again.

 

When he awoke the following afternoon, he’d begun coughing. His throat was fine, but there was a strange tightness to his chest that he found unnerving, but dismissed it as a late effect of all the smoke he’d inhaled during the numerous escapes he’d performed through burning buildings after Erin’s capture. Still, the old woman’s words lay heavily on his mind.

 

Basso was seated in his usual spot in The Crippled Burrick, gulping down the last bit of pint and wiping his beard in his sleeve afterwards.

“Garret,” he exclaimed merrily once he spotted the thief and produced a coin purse from one of his many deep pockets, “-for a job well done. It’s a beauty.” Garret swallowed down a scornful snort and sat down in the booth behind Basso, snatching the purse as he passed him. It was heavier than it should have been.

“I’ve have another couple of jobs, if you’re interested,” Basso offered.

“Sure,” the thief replied with little interest and coughed into his fist. Basso suddenly began laughing.

“And one guy who wanted to hear if you were interested in an assassination job,” Basso blurted again, barely able to contain himself. He was more drunk than he usually was, Garret noted.

“I’m not an assassin,” Garret responded levelly.   
“I told him as much,” Basso chuckled, “Anyways, The Rose wants Xiao Xiao’s pink diamond necklace. It’s believed to be housed deep within The House of Blossoms. Maybe even in her own office.”

Garret nodded, “-I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Basso suddenly turned to a whisper, “-the other one is more precarious. Someone rich wants Thief-Taker Thadeus Harlan’s ring. Already bought and paid for, this job. He used a messenger and all. Very hush hush.”

Garret fought the urge to snarl at the mention of the Thief-Taker.

“It’ll be a trap,” Garret quickly concluded

“Most certainly,” Basso agreed, “-hence the heavy purse. I’ll go underground for a couple of weeks starting later tonight. The messenger will be here in this very spot in 10 days, awaiting the ring. She’s a small brown haired little girl, maybe 8 years old, blue eyes, wearing a red bonnet. Whether you will give her the ring or the money back is your decision.”

The thief nodded in approval of the plan, “-Good luck Basso.”

Basso smiled and turned around and Garret was gone.

“Likewise, Master Thief,” he whispered mostly to himself and ordered another beer. The next couple of weeks was not going to be a picnic, he knew.

\--

 

The fact that it was raining cats and dogs that night combined with wind gust that tore roof tiles off made Garret retreat back to the clock tower and instead dedicated the night to the maintenance of the clock work, finding the concentration heavy and detail oriented work somehow soothing for the soul. He took some pride in keeping the old clock working when the many of the city’s other clock towers fell into negligent decay.

 

He’d hoped that a full day’s sleep would make him feel better, but the following afternoon, the world seemed just as grey as yesterday and the unwelcome tightness in his chest that made him cough was still there.

He cursed under his breath, when he saw that it was still raining. At least the wind had gone down.

He ate an apple while dressing in his tight leather outfit, making meticulously sure that everything was placed and tied correctly, knowing that his life could depend on it. He re-checked his supplies as the dusk gave way for night.

As he pulled the hood over his long black hair, he noticed that he’d only managed half the apple, but wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. Thinking that that could not be right, he ate the rest, even though he wasn’t feeling like it.

 

He made off over the roofs top, heading for the House of Blossoms, where he found a continuous traffic back and forth from. The girls were seemingly very busy tonight and that made it harder to get in and around while avoiding detection. Garret decided to wait outside for a while until the majority of the customer had been allocated into the private rooms and was more engaged in other activities than keeping a lookout for sneaking thieves.  
The annoying cough suddenly bubbled to the surface, forcing him to retreat from the position he’d found where he had a good overlook to the entrance. He suppressed it until he was a couple of blocks away and well above ground level, where it ripped itself loose from his chest and he coughed for almost a full minute.

Then he heard voices in the uppermost apartment next to him.

“Father, there is a man outside our window,” a boy announced followed by rustling. Garret cursed under his breath and retreated even further away from the House of Blossoms. He was forced to stop, when he started coughing again. He pressed himself against the nearest shadowy gable and made the cough as breathy as possible.

This was not going to work. Suffering a coughing attacked while deep in the House of Blossoms could prove fatal. Slowly he got his breathing under control and managed a couple of deep breaths before he moved again.

He waited until a couple of watch men, loudly chatting, passed underneath him and turned around a corner, before quickly forcing over a cross beam, when he suddenly slipped on the algae covered, water logged wood and he lost his balance.

In the same second it was clear that was falling down from the cross beam a full 20 foot above the cobble stone. He focussed and located another beam a good 12 feet to the left some 10-12 feet down and before he completely lost contact with the slippery beam he leapt for the other.

The take-off had not been good and even though he attempted to adjust his position is the air, he collided chest first with all his weight on the beam with nothing to soften the impact but his metal enforced leather armour. The beam cracked twice almost simultaneously and the wind was thoroughly knocked out of him. His legs, hitting nothing but air, swung underneath the beam, pulling the rest of him with them off the beam again.

He landed squarely on his back on the cobble stone. By some unfathomable stroke of luck, he didn’t hit his head too badly. He heaved after air as he slowly got to his feet. His watchful eyes quickly scanned the area and luckily found it deserted. He doubled over as the pain of the impacts washed over him, stumbling on shaky legs to the nearest shadow. Garret sat down and regained his composure and breath. He coughed and winced as brought sharp pain to his chest. He then realized that it was not the beam that had cracked under his weight, but himself. Broken ribs.

He cursed and berated himself for making such a stupid mistake at such a critical time. It was an occupational hazard and it wasn’t his first time, but still it reminded him that he was human and it bothered him.

The chatting alerted him to the fact that the guards were coming back around and he pressed himself deeper into the shadow. At this point he noticed that there was a slight wheeze to his breathing and had to make an effort not to curse again. Hopefully their mindless chatter would block it out.

“Thief!” someone shouted from above, successfully making the guards stop in mid track. Garret’s heart skipped a beat.

“He’s hiding on the corner behind the barrels,” the voice shouted again, “-I saw him falling from the roof.”

The shuffling of the guards boots, sent him springing into action, running down the nearest alley.

“Get him!” one of the guards shouted. The movement and increased breathing sent stars in front of Garret’s eyes and his ribs felt they were being stabbed repeatedly, but he pushed on, trying to keep the speed up. The guards were gaining on him and he decided he needed to get above ground level. He scaled massive cargo box and leapt over a fence, using Erin’s claw tool. When he landed on the other side he fell again, his knees suddenly grew weak, when the impact jarred his ribs. The guards couldn’t follow his stunt and just studied him with angry expressions from the other side before running back where they came from.

Garret scrambled to his feet. They would find another way around and possibly even alert more guards on their way. He needed to disappear and fast.

He didn’t trust his body enough to attempt the thieves’ high way more tonight and settled for sneaking from shadow to shadow along the cobble stone streets, clinging to the walls for much needed support.

The guards he encountered were on high alert, but he managed to sneak past them. The guards multiplied in numbers the closer he got to the Stone Market, suggesting that they were probably aware that he layered there. He paused and realized he wasn’t sure if he could scale the clock tower in his current condition and if he alerted any of the guards he wouldn’t be able to escape.

Defeated he turned around and headed towards the old chapel, hoping that they would accept one more in need.

 

The queen was in the exact same spot as the day before yesterday, nursing the exact same cup. The chess board was gone. Instead she was playing cards with a what looked be a teenage boy with scruffy brownish hair and wearing rags. One of the needy, Garret guessed. He hadn’t seen him around before.

“Garret, today I heard you before I sensed you,” the Queen chuckled, somehow finding it funny. Garret stumbled, finding much needed support in the wall. The Queen was instantly on her feet, nearly knocking over the small tea table.

“Help him, Will. He’s hurt,” the Queen bid and witnessed the Master Thief crumble and collapse to the dirty floor before the boy could reach his side.

 


	2. Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master Thief finds himself falling apart.  
> The Queen of Beggars takes her payment on behalf of the city.

Garret awoke with a start. Pain flashed across his right side, stopping his attempt at getting up. He could only hear his own laboured quickened breathing and his eyes darted across the dim room. He made eye contact with the teenage boy that earlier had been in the Queen of Beggars presence that stared at him with wide eyes. He was sitting on a plain wooden chair next to the bed that they’d placed Garret in, his shoulders up to his ears in tension.  
“I passed out,” Garret concluded out loud. The boy nodded, visibly relaxing a bit. A younger girl as scruffy looking as the boy peered out from behind him. Younger sister, Garret guessed and tried to sit up again. Even the slightest motion overwhelmed him with intense pain and he dropped back down with a hiss.  
“You should lay still mister,” the girl said in a squeaky voice, “- there’s a dent in you.”  
“A dent?” Garret croaked, puzzled by the expression, but it was confirmed by fierce nodding from the boy. The master thief turned attention to his ribs and noted the boy had opened his leather armour in the front, exposing his pale chest. His right side was bruised black and much to his surprise, the children were right. There was a dent in him, that shouldn’t be there, like his ribs had collapsed inwards. It meant that several ribs were broken in at least two places and they would need resetting. No wonder it hurt.  
“The old lady has sent word for the bone-setter,” the girl beamed in a voice that made Garret wished he was deaf and dead. The boy handed him a bottle of clear liquid with saying eyes. Garret considered him for a moment before accepting the bottle he guessed was liquor. He usually didn’t drink at all, but a date with the bone-setter left him with no finer feelings and took a good hearty swig.  
“Not much of a talker, are you boy?” Garret almost challenged him. To his dread the girl answered for him.  
“His name’s Will. I’m Rosa.”  
“Does your sister do all your talking for you,” Garret continued and took another swig and grimaced at the taste. Surprisingly the boy nodded again.  
“The Thief-Taker cut his tongue out. He used to carry messages for them, but then they could his tongue out,” the girl explained in a more solemn tone that didn’t get quite as much on his nerves. He took in a sharp breath.  
“Should’ve killed him when I had the chance,” Garret whispered, but then added louder “-probably saw something you shouldn’t have.”  
The boy nodded again. He then got up and left the room. It didn’t escape Garret’s attention that he didn’t make a sound as he walked either.   
“The bone-setter is expensive, but the old lady said that you can afford it,” the girl continued to chatter mindlessly. Garret didn’t pay attention and pretended to fall asleep.

Apparently it wasn’t all pretend, because he awoke again when the old lady placed a hand on his shoulder. To his own surprise he didn’t start at this. Somehow she had a calming effect on him.  
However, the big oaf of a man behind her didn’t quite reassure him in the same way. Garret found the bottle and took another great big swig.  
“Payment for your mistakes,” The Queen of Beggars spoke to no one, “-the effect of your actions are far reaching. Far beyond your comprehension. Like the ripple effect of a single drop in a vast ocean.”  
Suddenly she seemed to make eye contact with the boy that entered the room again. Then she left.  
Garret felt sick as the bone-setter approached him and assessed the damaged to his ribs. He was a big hairy man with meaty arms and legs and a great big beer belly to match and he was sweating profusely. Garret didn’t like him and was just glad that those unclean hands and nails weren’t going to an open wound.  
“Real piece of work, this is,” the bone-setter concluded, “-I need to push from underneath the ribs. Not going to be pretty or pleasant.”  
“I gathered as much,” Garret commented dryly.  
“You’re probably going to pass out,” he butcher added.  
“The faster the better,” Garret agreed and down the remainders of the liquor.  
He only managed to press his fingers up underneath the slender mans ribcage before Garret lost consciousness to the excruciating pain.

\--

A wheezing, slightly wet breath awoke Garret from his slumber. The air was crisp and the room bright. Noon even, Garret guessed. It had been years since he’d been awake at this ungodly hour. Pain radiated throughout his chest and he dared not move. He closed his eyes.

A wheezing, slightly wet breath awoke Garret again. His face quickly contorted with roaring pain that seemed to have taken over his entire being.  
“Relax Garret,” The Queen of beggars offered in a calming voice, “-drink the tea. It’s willow bark. It will help.”  
Someone put a cup his lips and he drank, despite never drinking anything he didn’t know where came from. It took a while, but the pain let up a bit and he slept.

A wheezing, slightly wet breath awoke Garret. It was dark he noted and very quiet. Another wet breath and he realized it was his own breathing he was hearing. Someone rustled beside him. Without moving he recognized the mute boy from the corner of his eyes. Will looked away shyly and poured a cup of tea that he quickly put to the thief’s lips. Luke warm and bitter, Garret guessed it was more willow bark and he drank it without question. He figured if they’d wanted to kill him, they had had enough chances to do it earlier. The world seemed strangely hazy and his breathing all wrong; laboured and wet.  
“Fever?” he asked the boy. He registered his nodding before he gave way for the darkness again.

Garret’s own breathing was what awoke him again. It sounded even wetter that it had earlier. The pain was not as acute longer and he dared moving his head to take in the room. It was dusk or dawn; which he dared not guess upon.  
Will was sleeping on a worn blanket directly on the floor just below the simple wooden framed bed he himself resided in.  
He caught eyes with the Queen of Beggars, who was standing in the entrance to the room. He hadn’t noticed her before. Garret cleared his throat.  
“The fever has broken, I see,” the Queen spoke in a low voice, “-I’m pleased. We’ve been worried for a while now.”  
There was something about the tone that made him uneasy. “How long have I been out?” he croaked, his voice weak from idleness.  
“Almost 10 days now,” the queen informed him. No wonder he felt so weak.  
“What’s wrong with me?” he asked again, realizing he had no idea.  
“Pneumonia, I should think,” she replied. The graveness dawned upon his sluggish mind; he had been precariously close to buying the ticket. Pneumonia was tricky and it usually proved fatal for more than half of those who caught it.  
“Thank you for your hospitality,” he began, but she interrupted him.  
“My house is always welcome to those who are need, as you well know.”  
“Still, I will pay you back,” Garret promised.  
“You will, but I think the city should like a favour instead,” she countered and looked at the boy, sleeping on the floor. Garret fought the sudden urge to groan.  
“What kind of favour would that be?”  
“Will is a bright boy, but he has no future, but on the streets,” she began, “-take him under you wing.”  
“I only know how to steal,” Garret and sighed, grimacing at the pain it caused.  
“Teach him to be a master thief,” she continued. Garret closed his eyes and breathed a couple of times.  
“I’ll take him in, but if he doesn’t have what it takes, I can’t teach him and he’ll most likely be killed or captured,” Garret harshly agreed.  
“You’ve noticed how silent he is,” the queen said in a confident voice with a small crooked smile, “-I’m certain he has what it takes.”  
“We’ll see,” Garret replied in an exhausted tone and closed his eyes.

It took him a good five days more before he could sit up and another 3 days to be able to stand up and walk around. Because of the pneumonia he suffered from coughing spells. Because of the crushed ribs, he fainted every time he coughed.  
He was a mess. The illness and injury had taken its toll on him and the pounds had simply fled from him along with his strength.  
The Queen of beggars left him alone, but Will followed him around like a dog. Garret suspected that the queen had already set his expectations high for an apprenticeship.  
On the fourth day after getting out of bed, he finally managed not to faint whenever he coughed and the massive bruise of the right side of chest was beginning to fade, he felt almost human. Even his appetite returned. Or at least he didn’t feel nauseous whenever food was in his proximity.  
During one of his walks, he stopped mid steps and turned around to face his ever present shadow, who startled at his master’s sudden movement. The sudden movement also jarred his ribs, but much to Garrets satisfaction he was able to refrain from crying out or stumble.  
“Do you really want to be a Master Thief?” Garret asked the wide eyed boy in a low grave voice. The boy looked him straight in the eyes for several seconds before nodding once.  
“Have you considered the consequences of failure? The thief asked, “-if you’re caught, you’ll be taken to the Thief-Taker General for torture, mutilation, and possibly even death.”  
The boy visibly paled and looked down.  
“I know you understand the meaning of this, having experienced this yourself. I suggest you spend some time considering if this really is what you want. You’ll work under harsh terms,” Garret added in a more mellow tone.  
Will met his eyes again and without sound, he clearly mouthed the words, “-I will not fail.”  
Garret couldn’t stop the crooked smile that ghosted past his lips, “-Fine.”  
He would put it to the test.


	3. Role Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erin reappears and helps Garrett getting back on his feet, enjoying the sudden reversal of the roles in their relationship. They discover where Basso is hiding and that the Thief-Taker has set a another trap for Garrett.

The day after, he dressed in his leather armour, determined to retreat to the sanctity of his clock tower. He was surprised at how ill it fit him suddenly; every buckle had to be pulled two holes further in and every line, tie, and lace had to be tightened to the point where they were pointless. Once recovered, he would quickly put the weight back on, he reminded himself.

He found the Queen in the main hall of the old chapel alone, sitting by her tea table. Her gaze seemed even more distant that usual. She blinked once and moved her hear ever so slightly and he knew his presence was detected. He approached.

“Will you take the boy?” she asked.

“Not today,” Garrett admitted, “-I need to recover some more and prepare.”

“You attempted to spark his fears,” the queen stated accusingly and he knew she wasn’t pleased. He stopped well out of her reach.

“It was the truth,” he argued in a low voice, his tone leaving her no doubt as to his conviction.

“He’s a child of the streets as you were and you think him oblivious to life’s harsh realities, even when you know that they cut away his tongue,” she quickly countered. He furrowed his brows and was just about to argue that that could have made the boy fearful, but took a breath and decided against it.

“I’ll come for him within the month,” he ended the conversation, “-should he still want it.”

 

Garrett had just about left the hall, when Erin’s frantic voice filled it and bounced off the walls.

“Garrett! Garrett.”

Flashes took him right back to that fateful night at the Northcrest Mansion.  _I’m slipping_.

The panic in her voice pierced him through to the core still. His left hand sought out his forehead. It’s seemed so real.

_Garrett, I’m slipping!_

“Garrett?” Erin’s voice sounded again. Closer, calmer, questioning. He looked up and there just beside him stood Erin, looking well. He met her eyes and he felt so confused.

“Garrett, where have you been?” she asked with a careful smile that didn’t quite cover the concern that tugged at her eyes. He straightened up.

“Here,” he answered and resumed walking, “-where have you been?”

“For a week?” she laughed, “-I didn’t know that the old lady was so fond of you.”

He just had to look at her with a disapproving look for her to fold.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she tried to sound careless and happy. Garrett wasn’t buying it.

“Why? Not long ago you didn’t want to be found,” he bit. He sounded bitter even to himself.

“What do you want from me?” Erin began, her young age suddenly very evident, “-I wanted some time to myself.”

Garrett coughed heavily and grimaced, his right hand seeking out his ribs to stabilize them. He was pleased that Erin was walking behind him and couldn’t see his face.

“I can’t find Basso,” Erin suddenly revealed, effectively making the master thief stop dead in his track. He turned around.

“What do you...” he trailed off, suddenly remembering the job about the Thief-Taker’s ring. A cold block of ice suddenly seemed to form inside his stomach. He quickly tried to count the days and realized that he should have met the messenger more than a week ago, “-damn it.”

“What?” Erin asked while studying him intently, “-and what happened to the other half of you?” She gestured his obviously thinner frame.

“I...” Garrett began, but couldn’t quite find the words, “-it’s a long story, but the essence of it is that I got injured and then I got sick.”

Garrett shook his head and tried to wrap it around what could have happened to Basso. He needed to get the purse and seek out the messenger. It dawned upon him that Erin was still staring at him in confusion.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” she finally said, “- you got injured.”

“I suppose the first thing you need to know is that I took a job from Basso to steal the Thief-Takers ring. It was obviously a set-up to try and catch me. Basso went into hiding after that,” Garrett began to explain.

“Understanding what he’d gotten himself and you into?” Erin asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Garrett patiently confirmed.

“Then you got injured?”

“Yes, I slipped on a crossbeam and crushed a couple of ribs.”

“Ribs?” she emphasized the plural and crossed her arms in front of her.

“Yes, then I got into trouble with the watch, but managed to dodge, but they’d laid the clock tower under siege.”

“So then you sought out the Queen of Beggars?”

“Yes.”

“And then you got sick?” Erin offered, clearly finding it absurd.

“Yes,” Garrett nodded.

“Sick how?”

“Pneumonia most likely,” he answered and shrugged. It didn’t matter much at this point.

“What about the job for Basso?” Garrett grimaced.

“I was down with high fever for ten days. The delivery time came and went... I’ve not been myself,” Garrett tried to explain. Erin’s gaze softened. As much as she enjoyed having caught him messing up, he was so physically marked that she could safely conclude that something out of the ordinary had happened to him.

“Does Basso know that you haven’t delivered?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “-I’m out of touch with the situation.”

She took him by the hand and resolutely led the way into the city, “-let’s go find out.”

 

Outside it was lightly drizzling and there was a nip in the air; winter was coming. Garrett was struggling from their first scale, wincing in pain from every odd movement that jarred his poor ribs and coughing his lungs up whenever he got slightly winded, which after almost three weeks in bed was pretty much all the time.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Erin offered after patiently watching Garrett suffering his umpteenth coughing fit. He willed it down and cleared his throat.

“I just need to catch my breath. I’ll be fine,” he waved a dismissive hand at her and coughed again. Erin shook her head and kept a wary eye on some passing guards below them. He sighed and protectively put his right hand over his ribs, “-maybe this was a bad idea,” he repeated and shook himself against the cold. Erin nodded sympathetically.

“Come, let’s get you home,” she quickly agreed, “I’ll see what I can make of the watch gossip and give you a report tomorrow.”

Garrett sighed again, “-fine.”

He didn’t feel much like a master thief these days.

 

 

Erin returned to the clock tower in the darkest hours before dawn, looking worn and carrying two cinnamon buns stolen from a noble house servant on the way home from the baker. Garrett couldn’t help but smirk. She used to do that all the time when she was his apprentice and he used to scold her for doing so, because the delicious smell would give her away quicker than any sound would.

Barely had she entered before Garrett handed her a steaming cup of tea. She took it smilingly and nursed it between frostbitten hands.

“How very domestic of you,” she grinned and handed him one of the buns. Garrett took it and noted it was still warm.

They sat down and Erin pretty much consumed the bun before she looked up again.

“What have you learned?” Garrett asked patiently and put down his pastry. Erin didn’t answer – she looked at the discarded bun and then at him. He’d taken of the outer layer of leather armour and he supposed he looked puny without it.

“You need to eat,” Erin instructed him, “-You’ve already lost much of your strength.”

“I’m not hungry,” he informed her, “-have you located Basso?”

“I’m not saying anything until you’ve eaten that bun,” she demonstratively crossed her arms and leaned back and awaited his reaction. Garrett stared at her for several seconds in disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she countered, “-I’ll make my report once you’ve eaten. Otherwise you’ll have to go out and listen to the gossip for yourself tomorrow night.” She had him by the balls and she knew it. A ghost of a crooked smile flashed over his lips and for a second he looked like a cornered panther. Erin’s smug smile faltered as she realized she was going to pay later once he got on his feet.

He took it and began to eat it under her watchful eyes without saying anything. The silence was roaring and uncomfortable. Erin had to make an effort not to shrink under his icy gaze. Garrett took his sweet time, she noted, enjoying her apparently obvious suffering.

When he was half way through she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright,” she began, “-it seems that Basso has fled the city. He has found himself some sort of deserted barn to the east. It’s called Bannerhill or something of that ilk.”  
“Outside the city?” Garrett repeated without understanding, “-he would never leave the city.”  
“Well, he did, but he was forced. Apparently he didn’t go into hiding soon enough and the Thief-Taker picked up his trail. He has him surrounded and they are waiting for you to come and get Basso,” Erin explained in a solemn tone.  
“Like I did in the tower,” Garrett realized and damned the Thief-Taker to the blackest pit Hell had to offer under his breath. Thaddeus had found a soft spot and was making the most of it. Erin nodded.  
“We’re in a bit of a trouble,” she concluded.  
“Not as much as Basso,” Garrett interjected, which earned him a brief smile from his former apprentice.  
“What do we do?” she asked in a serious tone, so unlike her usual voice.

Garrett suddenly stood up and turned his back to her as he succumbed to a violent fit of wet coughing. It took him the better part of a minute to get it under control. Erin studied him silently in concern.

“I’m currently in no condition to help him out,” Garrett admitted and sat back down.

”Give it a week,” Erin offered, ”-Basso can take another week and you’ll be much stronger.”  
Garrett suppressed another cough before answering. He leaned back and took a deep shuddering breath. The cinnamon bun had landed heavily in his stomach and now he felt sick.

“Of course he can,” Garrett agreed, “-especially if he’s given a message to induce hope.” Erin grinned.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“He’s training another magpie, though it’s still young it might be our way to him,” Garrett supplied, “-I can’t recall what he’s named it.”

“Still match boxes?” Erin asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Still matchboxes,” Garrett confirmed. Erin nodded before gulping down the last of her tea.

“Rest up good, Garrett,” Erin saluted him, “-I’ll swing by whenever I can.”

“Take care,” he whispered after her retreating form without looking her way. Even now with Erin an adult and fully capable, he still worried.

 

Garrett spent the week resting as much as he was able to without driving himself mental. He remained in the clock tower and slept as much as his cough would let him. He tidied and cleaned his layer, he mended, cleaned, and oiled his metal enforced leather armour. He evened out the dent that the fateful beam had left in his chest piece. He meticulously checked and fixed every piece of equipment he owned and used – twice.

By the second night he didn’t know what to do with himself.

 

Fortunately Erin came by with a empty matchbox and a satchel full of bread, cheese, apples, and a bottle of watered vine – a rare luxury.  He still didn’t have much of an appetite, but well aware that his body would recover sooner with sustenance.

 

“What do you want to put on the matchbox?” she asked after they’d finished their meal.

“Just  _patience_ ,” Garrett instructed and Erin shot him a critical glance.

“Nothing else?” she ventured.

“No. It’ll be enough to let him know that we are working on something and little enough not to give the Thief-Taker any hints, should the message to intercepted,” Garrett explained.

“He’ll know we’ll be coming for Basso,” Erin argued. A knowing smile tugged at Garrett’s lips.  
“Judging by the number of guards he has surrounding Bannerhill I should think he’s already pretty sure.”

Erin shrugged, wrote the word on the matchbox, and put it in her pocket.

“Right, I’m off magpie hunting,” Erin grinned as she left.

 

After that Erin came by twice a night with food and information. Garrett noted she seemed to enjoy the reversal of their roles; her being the caretaker and him being the one in need of help and protection. Garrett let her.  
He could feel his energy returning and he began performing basic exercises that he hadn’t done since he himself had been an apprentice.   
His ribs were slowly healing and allowing him greater leeway for each passing day when it came to mobility and strength.

In the middle of the fourth night, he dressed in gear and left the clock tower. Erin had left hours ago and he knew she was be back again in some 4 hours time. It would make his life infinitely easier if he was back before that.

With shadows as his second skin, he snuck along cobble stone streets and over roof tops, just to breathe in the city again. Just for the sake of it, he broke into a jewellers boutique and stole the most audacious necklace he’d every laid eyes upon. There were alert guards and lots of light. It was a challenge and it was exhilarating.   
He was more out of breath than he should have been, but otherwise his body had not forgotten how to be a master thief.

 

Once back in the clock tower he placed the necklace in his best display box. As he sat waiting for Erin it dawned upon him how reckless he’d been.  
His body might be able to sneak and steal, but if he’d been seen, he’d been in no condition to either fight or flee.  
He felt quite stupid by the time Erin arrived, happily informing him that she’d managed to send the message and that the bird even returned with the box again.

“How do you know that the message was conveyed then?” Garrett asked. Erin smiled and handed him the said matchbox. Underneath the word  _patience_  was scribbled _like a saint_. Garrett thought he recognized Basso’s hand writing and it certainly sounded like something Basso would say.

“Convinced?” Erin asked and smiled even wider. It was difficult to maintain his stern look with her beaming like that.

“It could be planted or forced from his hand,” he argued.

Erin just laughed and handed him another cinnamon bun.

 

 


	4. Bannerhill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett scouts Bannerhill and plots. Realizing he needs help in his endeavour he contacts his competitor.

At the end of his designated week of resting, Garret found himself outside the city, studying the layout of Bannerhill. It was a collection of houses and farms atop a hill. Aligning the road leading up to it, was small ramshackle cottages stacked close together. The further away from the road they were, the poorer they got, to the point where it was made from worn out fabric strapped to rotten poles. A chill rushed through him.

This was the prospect of young Will.

Even if he turned out to be nothing more than a mediocre thief, his chances of making it to adulthood would still be infinitely better under his tutelage then it would be out here.  
He pressed himself deeper into the shadows when his breath snagged and coughed wetly into his fist, his right arm firmly wrapped around his torso to stabilize his ribcage. It still hurt like the devil. As he regained his breath and composure he took in his surrounding even more.  
The upside about this neighbourhood was it was covered darkness and shadows and cowering people. The downside; they would rat out their mother for a copper.  
He supposed he could exploit that fact, but that also meant that more people would be able to identify him and after his encounter with the primal he’d acquired a rather prominent feature in form of his one green eye. An overall bad thing for a thief.  


He preferred to be a ghost, seen by none.

He would need to send Erin to ask questions out here. She was presumed dead and not on the Thief-Takers list just yet.  
As he snuck further out the road to Bannerhill he realized that the hill itself was ringed by naked fields and meadows. They would stick out like a sore thumb when they approached the farms at the top. Also several big signal fires were burning near the buildings in an obvious attempt to eliminate shadows.   


Garrett was a child of the night and the city was his home. His feet and motion was adapted to cobble stone streets and roof tops. He didn’t actually know how to react to grovel road and grass and how to handle next to no cover. Also he found himself feeling almost claustrophobic by thinking about the fields being just one possible level and road to take – he was used to working in many more dimensions. He shook himself against the sudden chill that ran through him and retreated back to the city.

 

\--

 

Garrett only managed to discard his dirty armour in the corner, out of sight, just as Erin entered his layer. Erin stopped dead in her track and studied the floor with intent. Garrett watched her from the floor below.  
“Have you been out?” she asked in disbelief. Garrett was dumbstruck. How the hell could he have forgotten about wet footprints?  
“Yes,” he gave and sat down. Erin sighed in defeat.  
“What happened to resting?” she asked. Garrett smirked.  
“It’s not really my style,” he said before a coughed wracked through his frame. Erin studied him intently before shaking her head.  
“You’re pale as a sheet. Then I suppose this is obsolete as well?” she placed the satchel with bread and cheese on the table.  
“I don’t get much sun light, Lady Lamplight. I’m always pale,” he argued and looked at the bread, “- and I have no appetite this morning.”  
Erin tried not to smile at Garrett’s nickname for her, “-you should eat nevertheless. I can already tell that the regular eating habits have helped – you’re looking less emaciated than you did a week ago.”  
Garrett didn’t look impressed, “-emaciated?,” he repeated, “-I’m hardly emaciated.”  
Erin sat down opposite him and met his gaze squarely.  
“No, now you’re just thin,” she countered and took in his appearance, with an evaluating mine, “-I think I could take you down.”  
“And you couldn’t a week ago?” Garrett quickly tried to deflect.  
“A slight breeze could have taken you down a week ago. Now it’s more of a challenge,” she looked far too eager to Garrett’s taste. He said nothing.  
“Wanna try?” she asked mischievously. Garrett took in a deep breath.  
“What happened to resting?” he countered. She didn’t budge, “-I would really prefer not to,” he finally answered. They’d sparred as a part of their exercise regime and as a part of Erin’s training. She was strong, but his weight was a definite advantage. With that gone, he didn’t know how it would turn out.

The damned cough overpowered him again. It was deep and wet and sent shards of pain through his right side. He grimaced in obvious pain and his hand sought out the healing ribs. Erin was over him within seconds.  
“Sit down,” he growled between coughs and fought the spasms down slowly. Erin had retreated as if beaten.  
“Perhaps another week...,” she attempted, but it died halfway through. Garrett shook his head.  
“No, I can’t leave Basso in the hands of the Thief-Taker any longer now,” Garrett solemnly concluded, “-Tomorrow night we plan and the following night we attack.”

 

\--

Dunstan was the closest thing Garrett had to a competitor in the City. They would do pretty much the same jobs and whereas Garrett would go in and out unnoticed, Dunstan left a trail of destruction in his wake, leaving no one in doubt whether or not they’d been robbed. He didn’t pick locks, he smashed the chest into pieces or broke down doors and windows. But he would get the job done - Garrett had to give him that at least.  
Dunstan was a brute and Garrett considered him an elephant that trashed about in a china boutique. But again, if there were no one around to hear the noises when they fell, Garret supposed that it didn’t really technically matter. Maybe that was why Garrett reached out to Dunstan through his network one early evening.   
Dunstan let it quickly be known that he was at a shady bar with no name or sign, commonly just called Johnson’s. 

Garrett liked the bar. It was dim to the point where it was hard to make people out and it had several exits. People kept to themselves and their own business. Any watchmen or Baronsmen would stand out here like a sore thumb.  
Garrett located Dunstan on the counter, nursing a pint. Truth be told Dunstan was a hard man to miss; standing over 6 feet, he towered over Garrett and most others as well.   
Dunstan looked well, Garrett noted, strong and well nourished. His eyes were bright and alert and skin healthy, which was much more than could be said about the rest of the bar’s clientele. Dunstan didn’t notice Garrett until he sat down beside him, but Garrett didn’t hold that against him or any other man – that was just as it should be.

“Well, if it isn’t the Master Thief?” Dunstan chuckled in a pleasant deep voice.

“Dunstan,” Garrett acknowledged and nodded once, “-good of you to make yourself available.”  
“It’s not every day you reach out to us mortals,” Dunstan replied with a brief smile, “-one must grasp at the opportunity. Also I heard the watch nearly got you some weeks back. We were beginning to fear that you’d been set out of play.”  
Dunstan cast a cursory glance over Garrett’s diminished frame, “-I see now that these worries and tales were not completely exaggerated.”  
Garrett gave a rare lopsided smile.  
“Had a bit of accident,” Garrett admitted and shrugged.  
“What kind of accident?” Dunstan inquired and took a gulp of his beer, the foam sticking to his full beard. Garrett considered his options for a moment.  
“One that required the bone-setter,” he gave. Dunstan grimaced as a response and brushed the foam of in his shirt sleeve.  
“You didn’t limp, so I’m guessing an arm,” Dunstan pried further. Without thinking Garrett’s hand sought out his damaged ribs. With a sideways glance Dunstan caught the movement and he smirked, “-ribs. That can be a killer.”

This was when the bad maid suddenly realized he was there.  
“What’ya hav’n?” she croaked in an abused voice. Garrett didn’t spare her a glance. He handed her a coin and answered, “-nothing.”  
She eyes him suspiciously and sarcastically added, “-coming right up,” as she turned away. Dunstan chuckled and shook his head lightly.  
“Why did you want to see me,” Dunstan finally asked and leaned forward on the counter. Garrett took a breath to speak, when a deep wet cough suddenly overtook him. It was a bad fit that lasted longer than it should have, leaving him wheezing at the end of it. His gloved hand was clutching at his chest, desperately trying to stabilize his ribs through the abuse.   
“I thought you looked a bit off,” Dunstan merely concluded, “-gloom?”

Garrett shook his head and straightened up.  
“It’s about Basso,” Garret began explaining, his voice suddenly not quite as strong, “- he’s finding himself in a precarious situation I should like to get him out of.”  
“Basso,” Dunstan was unable to hide his surprise, “-what of that old dog?”

Garrett coughed again, but not as violently as before, “-Thief-taker.” Dunstan’s eyes darkened considerably.  
“Has he been taken again?” he asked. Garrett noted that Dunstan’s knuckles turned white around his glass.  
“Yes and no. The Thief-Taker was setting a trap for me, when I suddenly went underground,” Garret cleared his throat and padded his chest a couple of times, “-when I didn’t come for the intended prize, the Thief-Taker found Basso instead and put him under siege, figuring I would come for him as I had done earlier.”

“And now you intend to do just that, while scarcely upright and you want my help,” Dunstan offered, but his less than impressed tone of voice didn’t leave Garrett much hope for his cooperation.  
“I’m perfectly able to stay upright,” Garrett muttered, but he knew that his performance tonight would not have inspired confidence in his abilities.  
“Perhaps. But I suspect not much more than that,” Dunstan deemed after casting him another examining glance, “-you’ve lost a lot of weight and you are not the youngest of us.”

Garrett tensed. Dunstan was the nosy type and the only way to keep him talking was to ... well, talk. This was getting a lot more about this health than he’d ever intended.  
“I thought the chance to catch the Thief-Taker with his pants down would be enough for you?” Garrett attempted and cleared his throat. He noted that several eyes were resting on him from around the room. They were like sharks smelling blood in the water. There was after all a pretty bounty on his head and his coughing had been a splendid display of weakness. They wouldn’t dare an attack while he was in Dunstan’s company, but afterwards, he would be in trouble.  
“The Thief-Taker is a rabid dog that should be gunned down on the spot,” Dunstan spat and then turned to Garrett, “-do not question my disdain for this excuse of a man.”  
Garrett was unaffected by the rage that burned in the other man’s eyes – he considered it an advantage. Dunstan huffed and stared at Garrett’s unyielding eyes for a while.  
“What do you propose?” Dunstan finally gave and took another swig of his beer. Garrett didn’t dare breathing a sigh of relief.  
“I need you and your goons to create a distraction, preferably two,” Garrett specified with a smirk.  
“You need us as cannon fodder?” Dunstan smacked his glass down in disbelief.  
“No, I need you to create a distraction while Erin and I go into the lion’s nest and get Basso out. If all goes well, the Thief-Taker won’t notice us or you. It should be quite the embarrassment,” Garrett painted the story a bit to satisfy Dunstan’s lust to humiliate the General. Going by the smirk he was sporting, Garrett was succeeding.  
“Who knew you had a serpent’s tongue?” Dunstan chuckled, “-tell me more.”

 

Garrett told him his extensive plan in a low voice, making sure that they were not overheard. Dunstan nodded and listened intently, only speaking in order to have Garrett specify his points further.  
As Garrett concluded his plans, Dunstan finished his beer and nodded.

“Fine plan,” he gave, “-when are we supposed to be ready by?”  
“Tomorrow,” Garrett instantly replied. Dunstan paled and Garrett suspected that he would have choked on his beer had he had more left.  
“Tomorrow?” Dunstan repeated.  
“Can you do it? Good and trustworthy men?” Garrett asked in all seriousness.  
“Sure, it’s possible,” he concluded in a distracted tone. His mind was already at the tasks ahead. Dunstan was a master planner and an opportunist.  
“Payment?” Dunstan asked suddenly.   
“Do you have to ask?” Garrett countered in a dangerous tone. To his surprise Dunstan only laughed


	5. Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans give way to action.

Garrett made it out of the bar completely unnoticed when he took advantage of a suddenly arisen bar brawl.

He wanted to find Erin. She hadn’t returned since she’d found out he’d left the clock tower. He wanted to make sure that he had her support and what he didn’t need was her famous disappearing act.

He looked for her at her known hang outs. Then he proceeded to likely hang outs and then to unlikely hang outs. The weather was against him; raining and with chilling temperatures just above freezing that made his cough deepen. He tried to locate Erin’s new layer, but without much success, only finding miniscule traces of her near the docks. The exertion finally got to him and drained him of energy, forcing him to return to the clock tower without result.  
The cough had returned same strength and sounded just a wet as it had been a week ago and his ribs ached from the abuse.  
He made himself a cup of tea to warm himself on and found that his gaze lingered on the open window, hoping that Erin would come.

She didn’t.

 

He slept poorly that day; the cough waking him several times and his body switched between being too cold and too warm. When the sun set, he found himself little more rested than he’d been before he slept and to top it off, he spent the better part of half an hour coughing up puss that had gathered in lungs while laying down, while getting dressed in his leather armour.

Irony would have it that this was how Erin found him; coughing and struggling not to. She didn’t look happy.

“You look like shit,” she pointed out and crossed her arms. Garrett shook his head, and continued to tighten the leather armour across his chest. It simply didn’t fit as well as it used to.  
“Are you going to help me or not?” Garrett asked darkly and took the straps in a hole further, making the fit tight. Erin noticed the gesture and met Garrett’s eyes.

“Hungry?” she asked in a provoking manner. He didn’t smile og smirk at this – he showed teeth and mounted a full quiver to his back along with his bow.

“You are having a ball, aren’t you?” Garrett asked darkly, “-if you enjoy this anymore, I might have to take offence.”  
She quirked an eyebrow.  
“I do not enjoy your situation,” she countered, “-I’m merely amused by your stupidity.”

And she turned to exit the tower. Garrett felt himself tense up and was just about to tell her to stay away, but reminded himself that he had to pick his battles and there would be plenty today to be fought. No need to start now.   
But later... later he would make her eat her words.

He couldn’t keep up with her over the roof tops; he was short of breath, his lungs simply on fire and his knees threatened to buckle underneath him with every long jump and heavy landing he performed.

He caught up with Erin at the top of an old disused church close to the city wall– the first vantage point that offered a view of the slum and fields that bordered up to Bannerhill. She’d stopped dead in her tracks, simply taking in the situation before her.

The slums were bright aflame and on the City side there were many rushed panicky people trying to stop the fire from spreading, including Men of the Watch. On the Bannerhill side the road was blocked by several heavy carriages; noblemen’s transport, carriages with straw and animals, and even a circus company, successfully making cover almost all the way to the barn on top of Bannerhill where Basso awaited their help.

Erin gave Garrett a lopsided smile, “-You’re something else.”

She looked again at the panic and destruction.

“How did you do that?” she asked in unmasked amazement, “-you must have on it for weeks.”

“When you know the right people, it only takes a day,” Garrett only gave. Erin’s gaze sought out Bannerhill.

“But why don’t they use some of the other gates? She asked and gestured the carriages.  
“The other gates have been closed the whole day,” Garrett answered calmly and coughed deeply.  
“Why?”

“Various reasons,” Garrett smirked and countered, “-still amused?”

Erin only laughed, which was typical.

“Are more help to be expected?”

“No, it’s only the distraction and the cover. The rest is up to us,” Garrett disclosed and broke down coughing again. She shot him a worried glance.

“We should get going and exploit this glorious panic while it lasts,” Erin sobered up, “-only one problem... how do we get through the fire?”

“Follow me,” he waved her with him.

 

Garrett used the primal to focus and a path appeared as clear as day before them. He led the way through the burning debris that used to be the slums, expertly leading around the hottest areas. Sometimes the gaps and openings were so small or concealed that Erin swore to herself that she wouldn’t have found them on her own, but Garrett seemed to know where they were without looking.  
Garrett’s cough awoke with a vengeance, his abused lungs having little tolerance to the smoke and soot, but Erin found herself coughing and choking soon after.  
In the middle of the roaring fire and the urgency to get through without getting caught in the flames, Garrett stumbled to his knees once. Erin couldn’t tell if it was due to the cough, the smoke, or if he just tripped over something. She yanked him up and pushed him on – the whole thing was collapsing over their very heads and no matter what had caused his uncharacteristic stumble, they needed to get away.  
Erin’s relief once the clear star filled night sky spread out over them was endless. The panic that had crept into her blood slowly ebbed out.

Until Garrett collapsed completely in front of her, coughing breathlessly.

Urgency surged through Erin again and she dragged Garrett behind one of the carriages so that they wouldn’t be seen from Bannerhill by the general’s men.  
“Breathe, Garrett,” she whispered, almost accusingly, while scanning her surroundings for anything suspicious. The carriages were manned, but they most were sleeping or dozing in their wait to pass through the gate and none seemed to have noticed their appearance.  
Turning her attention back to Garrett, she saw that he was at least awake, but he was having serious trouble breathing through the coughing.  
“Get your act together, Garret. We are not even half way through this night,” Erin scolded him on through clenched teeth. He put a dismissive hand between them and while coughing behind a tightly sealed lips, he managed to sit up again.  
Erin was just about to say something more, but bit it back. Instead she straightened up and offered Garrett a hand.

He took it and got to his feet with just a little swaying before he found his center again. He forcibly stopped coughing. His breathing was wheezing and crackling loudly in his chest, but he stopped coughing and then he was off, sneaking along the carriages with a tight lipped Erin on his heels.

The circus wagons were most difficult to get passed – the always travelling artists, used to making the most of irritating situation, had made camp and lit a fire and the spirits were high. What was worse was that they kept dogs, ponies, birds, and even a bear. Garrett almost had to stop breathing in order to sneak passed unnoticed.

When the line of wagons suddenly came to an end, Garrett stopped. Erin came up from behind as Garrett’s loud heavy cough echoed over the meadows and she noticed his hand clutching at his ribs. He was in pain.

Erin swore under her breath and scanned the area again. Tonight she actually felt like she was picking up his slack. He swallowed the cough again and settled for just wheezing.

His green eye glowed eerily and he pointed at a few bushes not very far from them.

“There are guards hiding there,” he croaked and nearly choked again. Erin couldn’t see much in the flickering light from the fire. She guessed the general’s men were feeling the same way, perhaps even more so, because they were looking directly into the light, whereas they were looking away from it.

“There are two more further up the road,” Garrett continued, “-and more up by the barns. I can’t tell how many.”

“You’ve got good eyes, old man,” Erin teased and noticed his hand still rested on his chest, “-you gonna make it?”

“Let’s go. Out to the right, over the fields,” he instructed and took off.

 

Distance, they learned, were something completely different out in the open and they seemed to wander for hours before they finally came to the outskirts of Bannerhill.   
Erin couldn’t feel her feet anymore. They’d crossed some marshy patches, where only the top-inch of the soil was frozen and when you broke through it, one was knee deep in ice cold mud. She’d gotten soaked. Garrett had been better at finding the areas that would carry his weight, but he’d been through it as well.  
Erin suspected that they by now was a sight for sore eyes; sooty and half covered in mud.

Garrett crouched behind a low bush and evaluated their situation.

“Garrett. Let’s not leave the city again... ever,” Erin groaned beside him. Garrett chuckled and then spent the better part of a minute fighting to not break down coughing.  
“I was thinking the same thing,” Garrett admitted and then grew serious. There were a lot of guards, but their numbers had diminished compared to the other day due to Dunstan’s theatricalities. It was as good as it every was going to be.  
“Erin, if you make your way in from the east,” he gestured her intended path, “I’ll take it from the west end. Knock out as many guards as you possible can – Basso’ss going to big and loud to extract. Better there is as few as possible to alert.”  
“Okay, I’ll see if I can’t enter through that window up there, Erin agreed and met Garrett eyes for a second, “-don’t get caught.”

And she was off.

Garrett took his time sneaking up to the buildings that made out the small town of Bannerhill. He was conscious of each step and careful with each breath. The smoke inhalation had considerably worsened his condition and he had concentrate on not coughing; every breath he drew snagged upon exhale and it took every ounce of the willpower he could muster to keep breathing. What worse was that he was tiring from the extra effort, but he knew he couldn’t rush it.

So he took his time and was extra careful not to make mistakes. He used the shadows and the blinding head light from the fire to his advantage, knocking out guards on his way around and into the barn.   
All he was met by inside was a frustrated looking Erin and a lot of unconscious guards.

“He’s not here,” Erin concluded, “-I thought you knew he was here?”

Garrett sighed and immediately resigned to coughing.

“I don’t know exactly where he is,” Garrett admitted between coughs, “-I deemed from the number of guards that this was his most likely position.”

Erin looked at him in disbelief.

“His most likely position,” she repeated and shook her head, “-well, fuck. What’s your plan now, master planner?”

Garrett glared at her.  
“I suggest we continue our search,” he answered flatly and shivered before turning away from Erin.

“Is it possible...” her words died on her lips, but it made Garrett face her again.

“What’s possible?”

“Is it possible that the General hasn’t found Basso yet? That he’s still hiding here somewhere?” she ventured and then gestured the guards, “-they certainly don’t act like they’ve found him.”

Garrett hadn’t considered that – he’d taking it for granted that Basso had gotten himself caught. He should have considered it; Basso was as slick as an eel when it came to guards and taxes. He considered the area again with fresh eyes.

It would be difficult to hide in, but not impossible.  
“I think you’re right,” Garrett gave, “-then we’re looking for a very good hiding place. Good enough to fool hundreds of guards for weeks.”

“That’s my kind of hiding spot,” Erin grinned.  
“He must have prepared it,” Garrett mused out loud, “-a spot to hide in for a while if things got heated up.”  
Erin was already off again into the dark. Garrett sought upwards to get a better view of the miniscule town. He got worried about his time table, when he could barely lift himself up to the roof, his muscles trembling with effort. As took a closed view at Bannerhill, he shivered again.

Garrett fairly quickly spotted a woodshed that was no more than five years old, young compared to the other woodsheds in the area. Also it was significantly larger than the others.

He climbed down again, jumping the last 6 feet down, when the impact made something inside his chest move with a soft wet thud.

Blinding pain burned throughout his right side of his chest anew as he doubled over, crumbling to a heap on the ground.  
At least one rib was re broken. He cursed under his breath through clenched teeth. Several times. He scanned the area – he was not spotted.

Slowly, ever so slowly he got to his feet again and slowly made his way over to the woodshed, but nowhere near as silently as he should have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the hits and kudos :) I greatly appreciate them :) Keeps me going and warms my heart.


	6. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayal hits close to home. Garrett is set up by the Queen of Beggars and finds himself a reluctant Master yet again, whilst his health continues to fail.

Inside the woodshed was ... wood. Lots of it, to the point of Garrett barely had room to enter and close the door after him.

He tried using his focus, but it flickered away from him as another jab of pain radiated out from his ribs. It took several tries, but then for just a second, he saw the outline of a door in the stabled wood. He breathed a sigh of relief and then suppressed the cough that threatened to follow.   
The focus was getting hard to gather, so he settled for looking for the lever or button that would open the door the old-fashion way; by feeling his way.

It turned out to be an out of place birch branch that triggered the mechanism and the door sprang a few inches inwards.

He heard someone shuffle inside. For a second he considered the danger of the situation; he wouldn’t be able to defend himself, should the one inside be anyone but Basso. For the first time he even considered the possibility that the Thief-Taker General had played big and that it was him that was inside and that he’d walked right into the trap quite willingly, feeling all clever about his own plan.

“Garrett?” a deep and hoarse voice tried from inside the darkness. Relief washed over Garrett so violently that his legs for a second forgot to support his weight. He stumbled, but caught himself against the wood.

“Basso, come on out,” he responded in his usual subdued voice and was pleased that his voice didn’t break, “-time to go home.”

“Garrett,” Basso exclaimed with a smile as the big bear of a man just about filled the entire door way, “-good to see you.”

Garrett put his index finger to his lips in a gesture to keep Basso quiet.

“Later,” Garrett bid. Basso nodded, but then got a good look at Garrett.

“What happened?” he whispered and gestured Garrett’s clothes. Garret considered the soot and mud with a bored look.

“We’ve literally been through fire and ice to get here,” was all that Garrett told him.

“We?” Basso asked happily.

“Erin’s here somewhere,” he quickly replied and gestured Basso to remain quiet again. Garrett snuck outside and from the comfort of the shadows he focused, mapping out his surroundings. He pushed through the pain and made out three people on the other side of the building they were standing next to, behind them. It wouldn’t be a problem to sneak away from them.

Something about the figures made his eyes linger. There was a big oaf of a man, a smaller man, and a woman. He recognized Erin. The smaller man limped back a forth. They were speaking heatedly in hushed voices. For a moment he feared that Erin had been captured, but there was something in the way that the others were addressing her that didn’t fit.   
Realization hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest, when he recognized the Thief-Taker General as the limping man. He gritted his teeth in the face of this overwhelming betrayal – Erin was betraying him and Basso. Erin, his own former protégé.   
With white knuckles he gestured Basso to follow him, which he did reluctantly and with an obvious look of confusion on his face.

“What about Erin?” he whispered.

“She’s lost,” was all Garrett managed to get past his teeth. Lost was code. Lost meant that she’d lost her way. It usually meant that people were not to be trusted due to the company they kept. It was the mildest terms that Garrett could use. If he used any harsher terms, he would have warranted her immediate death sentence in the criminal world. Basso furrowed his brows, but followed the master thief with much more grace than Garrett had ever thought him capable into the shadows of the night.

 

They went back into the city through a different city gate. One that had conveniently been scheduled to open earlier than normal that morning – a standard procedure when one of the other gates where closed due to ... let’s say a fire.

There two of Dunstan’s men were waiting a mile outside with a hay wagon. Basso was just about to lay down in it when Garrett stopped him.

“No, we go under,” he told him, “-hay wagons always get checked by the guards.

“Under?” Basso stared at him in disbelief and looked under the wagon. He couldn’t quite see where he would fit. Not until Garrett removed a couple of loose boards to reveal a very tight space between the false deck and the bottom of the wagon.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Basso shook his head.

“Good thing that you’ve lost a little weight during your little getaway,” Garrett smirked and coughed wetly, efficiently wiping his own smile off. His anger was all that had gotten him so far and enabled him to block the pain out from the broken rib, but now as fatigue was slowly replacing the anger, he was becoming acutely aware of it again.

“Speaking of weight,” Basso began, “-you are looking even leaner than usual.” But then turned his attention to the wagon. He panted and grunted with the effort of getting into the wagon. Garrett had hoped that he hadn’t noticed his diminished frame, but refrained from responding and crawled into the wagon next to Basso.  
“What now?” Basso’s alert eyes met his in the dark inside the wagon.

“Now we wait and stay quiet,” Garrett replied and made himself as comfortable as possible.

 

Garrett must have fallen asleep, which was exceedingly uncharacteristic for him. He didn’t wake until Basso nudged him hard.

“We’re here,” Basso told him, which was followed by the noise of Dunstan’s men removing the boards again, allowing them to exit the wagon.

His chest hurt and his breathing was laboured; clear signs that he needed to rest soon.

They thanked Dunstan’s men appropriately and followed Basso into the shadows again. He looked at the sky – it would soon be dawn.

“Stay low and out of trouble for a while,” Garrett croaked, “-don’t trust your old hideouts. Erin knows them all.”

“I don’t understand Garrett. First you said that she was with you to get me out, then suddenly she’s not to be trusted. What did you see?” Basso asked. Garrett fidgeted with his quiver for a while, before placing it back over his shoulders.

“She was speaking with the Thief-Taker and she wasn’t his prisoner,” he explained. Basso looked at his darkly.

“I don’t believe it,” he muttered, “-I know she’s a wild one, but I just can’t believe it.”

Garrett felt his anger flare up again and he was having trouble controlling his breathing.  
“I...” Garrett faltered, “-she’s been living under my wing for many years. I know the feeling... just be wary.” Basso sighed audible.

“One can never be too careful,” he gave, “-just until we’ve cleared her name.”

Garrett nodded approvingly and cast another concerned glance at the sky. People would soon be up.

“Where will you go?” Basso asked. Garrett gritted his teeth again in anger. He couldn’t go back to the clock tower.

“I’ll let you know soon enough. See you around, Basso,” he replied vaguely and climbed the nearest building and made it up to the thieves’ highway.

 

He knew he wouldn’t find a new hideout tonight and headed for the only safe place he knew; the chapel in Mourningside.

However, as soon as Garrett had taken the first step towards Mourning Side, he decided against it; it would be too easy for Erin for find him there.

As another crippling cough overtook him, he knew that he needed to find a place to rest. And not just random roofed ledge somewhere. He needed real protected shelter.

He cast a cursory glance at the eastern horizon. It was dawning.

With treacherously trembling limbs, he made it to the thieves’ highway, even though he would have preferred not to use it, but he would make better time. Also down on the streets the buzz of the day was slowly beginning build up, meaning a lot more traffic and more light.

By chance he noticed a rich merchant’s town house; there were windows in the attic, tall windows even. _Who in their right minds put windows in the attic?_  
Garrett knew who; _show offs_. It was a way of displaying wealth. Windows and glass were expensive and large windows even more expensive. It was highly impractical also; the house was exceedingly expensive to heat in the winter and in the summer it was like a sauna.

The windows would also be Garrets salvation. The attic was protected and the rooms below well heated. Heat travelled upwards. The windows also made for the perfect easy escape if someone from the household suddenly came up there.

Best of all; windows made for easy entrances. It took only a little coaxing with his crowbar to pry it open. His carefulness paid off as the window frame bore no mark of his action, making it all the harder for Erin to find him.

Like predicted, inside it was pleasantly warm, though dusty, it would be perfect. He stumbled for second, when his body, flooded with relief and nearly gave out. He suppressed a coughing fit, as he gathered a couple of stored blanket and found a decorative cushion that had been discarded – probably out of fashion by now.

In the eastern corner he made himself comfortable behind stacked storage boxes, out of sight from both the windows and the entrance from below.

He slept instantly.

 

Garrett awoke when it had grown dark again. It was quiet, except for his own wheezing breath, which had grown more pronounced during the day. He moved slightly and immediately regretted it as the dull ache that had settled uncomfortably on his ribs flared white hot.

A cough overtook him with unprecedented violence and tore at his lung tissue and broken rib. It hurt so much that he didn’t even consider how noisy he’d just been until he’d successfully suppressed the damned cough again.

 

He startled and cowered as he caught something from the corner of his eye.

 

The Queen of Beggars was standing right next to him alone in the dark. Garrett blinked a couple of times. He dared not speak. He was convinced he was seeing thing now.

He couldn’t get his head around how that old lady had carried herself to the 4th floor. Unnoticed. Through an occupied town house.

And how the hell did she know where to find him?

“You found and freed Basso,” the Queen stated. Her voice sounded so real, “- and you left Erin?”

Garrett stared at her for several seconds without reacting.

“E-Erin is lost,” Garrett whispered finally. His lungs couldn’t bear his voice any louder. The queen tilted her head bit, brows furrowed.

“Not as lost as you,” she countered sharply, “-have you forgotten the boy.” Garrett sighed and closed his eyes. He truly didn’t need this right now.  
“I’m not well enough yet,” Garrett argued as a matter of fact, “-I’m barely able to take care of myself, much less take in a boy.”

The old woman was not convinced.

“The boy is in no need of castles or waiters, but only of shelter, food, and guidance. He might even be of service to you.” She was unyielding. Garrett looked away.  
“I can’t go back to the clock tower for a while,” he mused, “-I need to set up a new lair first at least.”

“No, we have too little time. The balance is unsteady and the boy is important. You will make do,” she cryptically countered.

Garrett closed his eyes as a wave of pain washed in over him. As it ebbed out he wondered why she’d gone quiet and looked to her only to find that she’d vanished again. He cursed her under his breath.

Something shifted beside him.

 

Will, the scruffy looking boy, was sitting on the floor right next to him and looking back at Garrett with big blue eyes in the dark.

 

“What the...?” Garrett’s words died on his lips as he realized what the old hag had done. He rarely got angry, but now it was two times in so many days. He clenched his fist.

 

Will gave a cautious smile, but quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the attic, when Garrett continued to scowl.  
The master thief cursed under his breath and awkwardly got to his feet, trying to avoid jarring his broken rib further. He pressed his hand tightly against his side to stabilize it while moving. Normally he would have bound his chest in tightly, but he had no wrappings available to him at this point and he’d lost so must weight that he couldn’t tie the leather chest piece in any further to achieve same effect. He was forced to make do some other way.  
He found Will’s eyes resting on his protective hand. Garrett considered him for a moment.

“I broke my ribs... again,” he admitted to the boy, whom only drew his brows together and looked Garrett straight in the eyes. Garrett sighed and waved a dismissive hand at him, “-don’t ask.”

 

Opening the windows Garrett saw that it was raining cats and dogs outside, making his mood drop even further

“I hope you’re worth it, boy,” he commented in a low voice to no one in particular and went outside in the pouring rain without much of a plan. _More like a direction than a plan really_.

They headed for Cinderfall; with the automation movement that the Baron started failed, there was bound to be abandoned factory buildings there. _Preferably haunted and with lots of scary dolls to scare off intruders_.

 

Progress was slow. They struggled with low visibility and precarious footing. Even though the boy was nimble, he was daunted by the heights and but not very tall or strong – he struggled to keep up with Garrett, despite him being on less than 100%.

Garrett almost chuckled at that thought – he was quite frankly less than 50% at the moment. Maybe lower, but he didn’t dare to test it with a young and inexperienced boy in tow.  
The said boy coughed and spurted behind him, actually sounding as if he was drowning in the heavy rain. Garrett shot him a concerned glance and looked for a place to make a small stop.   
A roofed gable with a large overhang provided shelter over some beams that crossed over the road high up. He showed the way and lead Will to sit down and lean against the wall. He noticed the boy was shivering. Badly so.

It wasn’t until that moment that he noticed that he was dressed only in a threadbare shirt and equally thin pants. His shoes barely qualified as such, sole barely still attached to the leather. He was soaked through and probably cold to the bone.

Garrett shivered involuntary and studied the neighbourhood they were in – middle classed; there should be a couple of things worth stealing.

“ _What is yours is mine_ ,” he muttered below his breath and turned his attention to Will, “-stay here.”

He shrouded himself in the shadows and looked for clues indicating that one of the house hold housed a child approximately of Will’s size.

 

It took him the better part of an hour to locate such a house hold and less than 15 minutes to steal a full set of clothes, including a pair of boots and an oilskin coat. He suspected that the coat with way too large, but the weather demanded it.

 

Will was half sleeping when Garrett returned. He was shivering uncontrollably and his lips and finger tips were downright blue.  
Garrett shook him, and not gently so. He handed him the clothes.

“You never sleep in an exposed place like this,” Garrett instructed in a hard voice and effectively triggered his phlegmy cough again. He turned away from Will and coughed wetly into his fist, while pressing hard against his rib. When stars appeared before his eyes, he wilfully ended the spasms and spat out the puss he’d coughed up.  
He couldn’t remember ever being this sick. And never for this long.

He eyed Will that hadn’t moved yet, “-change. Now,” he barked and coughed again until he nearly stumbled of the beam. He kneeled to stabilize himself.

A strange groan came from under the overhang. From Will. The boy looked at him with impossibly worried eyes. Garrett thought himself silly to have thought that Will was a mute – he, of course, still had a voice. They had only taken away his words.  
“Change. Take the wet clothes off. Leave them here,” Garrett repeated, “-we need to get out of this weather.” He coughed again and his chest hurt.

This time Will seemed to hear what he was saying and changed in a hurry. He was thinner and smaller than Garrett had estimated. Everything was too big on him. The coat went down to his knees and was a good hand length too long on each sleeve.

 

It didn’t matter much. He urged the boy onwards.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait :) Thanks for sticking with it!


	7. The Cinderfall Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garret and his new apprentice goes into Cinderfall, hoping to remain out of sight for a while. Garrett begins Will's training, but his health is working against him.

It had been a while since Garrett had been to Cinderfall. Not many jobs took him there and it was separated by a river to both Auldale and Dayport, making it remote for any city dweller. It was dirty, dusty and ugly and consisted solely of industrial buildings in various states of decay and neglect.

The buildings were tall and stacked close together. The roofs were hard to get to from the outside and would make for a tough climb.

He cast a sideway glance at his new apprentice. Exhaustion was plainly visible on his young features and he decided against it. They would use the streets, which were mostly deserted – only a few of the factories were running night time shifts.   
Cinderfall was placed on a steep hill and walking up it quickly winded Garrett, effectively making him cough almost nonstop.

He could barely contain the agony it inflicted on his broken ribs. Cold sweat mixed with rain ran down his face.

His hand sought the wall and he stopped, making Will bump into him. He coughed heavily, his wind pipes almost completely clogged up and his vision blacked out for a good second.

He stumbled and crashed into a couple of empty barrels, stored up against the wall on the side of the street. They banged up against each other and thundered loudly, splitting the silence into a million pieces.

Garrett’s heart sank, even though he couldn’t stop coughing. All guards would have heard that ruckus from a mile away.

He quickly grabbed Will be the shoulder and lead him into the nearest back alley by force. They needed to get as far away from the scene as fast as possible. Adrenaline surged through him and allow him much needed strength.

Hurried heavy footsteps sounded from around the next corner and Garrett’s sixth sense prickled madly underneath his skin.

Faster than he’d ever done it before he silently pried open a blinded window, lifted it up and yanked Will inside. He followed and let the window down gently just as two heavily armed watchmen passed by on the streets just outside.

He didn’t dare to breathe, afraid that he would lapse into a coughing fit again and he cast the boy a rueful glance. Will was breathing superficially and much too quick. At this rate he would make himself sick.

“They won’t find us,” Garrett tried to calm him, but his breath immediately snagged on itself. He coughed wetly behind a closed mouth, while clutching his chest with a trembling right hand. By the seekers, it hurt.

He willed it down and forcibly breathed through the urge to cough. It would have to wait. He would endure.  
He gestured Will to follow and opened the window again. He listened carefully for watchmen, but except for the rain he heard nothing.

Garrett didn’t know exactly where they were, but he guessed it didn’t really matter. They just continued up the hill.

 

Until the houses to one side of the street suddenly decreased in height. He stopped outside a one story factory building, where he couldn’t see any buildings behind it. It looked positively deserted.

Through a broken window he spotted one of those eerie looking live size wooden dolls sitting by a desk. He could swear

That it moved it’s head a little to look directly at him. Will took a step backwards.

Garrett smirked. He’d gotten used it by now – it was attracted to the primal in his eye.

 

Inside on the top floor the ceiling was low and there were lots of offices and desks, all occupied by dolls. On the floor below, however, the ceiling was raised and on the side away from the streets there were massive windows, almost from ceiling to floor, all giving a perfect view of the city below, bathed in electrical lights and torches. It was breath taking.

It had been a executives office with no less than two massive couches in red velvet and a large wooden desk with rich carvings. The furniture was worth a fortune. He looked up the stairs for a moment and found the first dozen doll eyes resting on him. Okay, maybe not entirely use to it.

The place probably hadn’t been raided because of the creepy dolls and tonight it was their luck.  
“Rest up,” Garrett said to boy and pointed at one of the couches, “-we’ll be staying here tonight.”

The boy shuddered and cast an anxious glance up at the dolls.

“They’ll keep raiders and watchmen away,” Garrett assured him and coughed, “-I’ll take a look around.”

 

Two more floors underneath housed the actual producing halls with machinery and working stations and at the lowest level he found a kitchen with a small cantina. He found nothing edible save for four cans of beans in some sort of tomato sauce.

He opened a can with a dull knife and the claw and put a spoon directly into the can.

 

He checked for an exit on the lower planes, but found none, which was strange, because whatever they had produced here, it was big and there was no way they would have been able to get it out from the top floor.

The trembling in his knees got even worse, signalling that the adrenaline was wearing off, and he staggered upstairs again to Will, who was sitting stiffly on the edge of his designated couch.

Garrett handed him the can and he took it somewhat reluctantly. Garret didn’t blame him, but in the same second the boy’s stomach growled with hunger.

“Eat. Then sleep,” the master thief instructed and dismounted his leather armour.

Will licked his lips once and then offered the can back to Garrett. He shook his head and lied down on the couch, “-I’m not hungry.”

The boy needed no further encouragement and wolfed down the cold beans. Garrett’s body gave out immediate

 

Garrett awoke in panic, drenched in cold sweat; he was drowning.

 

He coughed heavily and it sounded like his lungs were filled to the brim with liquid. Every inhale snagged almost immediately, forcing him to cough and cough to the point where he scarcely had air to cough anymore. He had the good sense to produce an already dirty handkerchief from one of his pockets through the haze of panic.

He fought to draw in air, only to suffer the cough ripping it from his lungs again with force, jarring his broken ribs and sending stars dancing in front of his eyes.

  
He coughed up all sorts of foul puss, and... he stopped breathing for a moment... it was dotted with brown dried blood. His heart dropped.

The cough overpowered him almost instantly again. He coughed and coughed. He didn’t know how long he carried on like that, but when we finally was able to draw a breath without coughing, he was exhausted to the point where he just collapsed back into the softness of the velvety couch and let sweet oblivion overtake him.

 

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. His breathing gurgled and rattled wetly inside his chest, he noted, and he found it heavy to draw breath. He was exhausted. He couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes.

 

Someone tapped him on the shoulder again. He couldn’t remember ever being tapped on the shoulder. He was so far away and his strength evaded him. His awareness faded again.

 

Someone urgently tapped him on the shoulder. Garrett’s eyes flickered open, but he was not able to focus. His eyes hurt. Actually, everything hurt.

The tapping continued. Garrett opened his eyes again and this time he caught a glimpse of Will, kneeling beside him. Garrett wasn’t sure where they were.

It was agony to draw breath. As awareness returned to him, the pain increased. All he wished for was going back to sleep.

His breath snagged again and the deep wet cough ripped itself from his chest again, tearing at strained lung tissue and broken ribs. If breath wasn’t so precious, he would’ve screamed in agony.

More puss had gathered in his lungs and his body spent whatever little energy he had left expelling it.

 

Will pulled him upright and stars exploded in front of Garrett’s eyes when his ribs shifted around at the moment. When that passed he noticed that sitting up actually helped his breathing. It suddenly wasn’t as heavy.

 

Garrett met Will’s eyes and he felt sick when he saw that the boy was actually genuinely worried. Will’s stomach suddenly growled loudly. Garrett furrowed his brow and looked around.  _Yes, the strange factory building._

“How long?” Garrett croaked, barely able to produce any sound at all. Will held up two fingers.  
“Two hours?” he tried again and coughed heavily. Will shook head.

“Two days?” Garrett asked in disbelief. Will stoically nodded once. Garrett’s own body confirmed it; the stubble on his chin, the pronounced trembling of his limbs that testified to that it had been a long time since he’d last eaten, and a splitting head ache, indicating both fever and dehydration.

Will’s stomach growled again.

Garrett remembered the canned beans, but also the many stairs both down and up – he would never make it.

“There are more cans in the kitchen on the bottom floor,” Garrett informed him and explained him how to get there. Will was not liking having to go down there for himself, but it seems that hunger was enough of a reward that he overcame himself.

 

Garrett was left alone with the spectacular view over the city, illuminated by thousands of electrical lights and live torches.  
He closed his eyes against the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. He was sick. Sicker than he’d thought he was. He shuddered against the cold and he knew that he needed to find a physician willing to treat him if he was to recover from this. Not just a bone setter, but an actual physician and they were a lot harder to come by and lot more expensive.

 

Will returned looking pale as a sheet and with superficial breathing. He was scared. Garrett would need to harden him. A lot.

He’d returned with two cups of water and another can of beans. Garrett handed him the knife and urged him to try to open the can for himself. Garrett took the water and it wasn’t until he’d downed the whole cup that he realized how thirsty he was.

Will had already gone onboard in the beans with an appetite.   
“Save a couple of spoonfuls to me,” Garrett croaked unenthusiastically, even though he was sickened by the thought of food. Will stopped munching and handed him the can. Garrett declined.

“You eat first,” Garrett insisted. He had to consider the possibility of the cough being contagious. Will shrugged and continued eating with undiminished appetite.

 

When Garrett’s turn came he had to fight gagging while eating the cold beans in cold slouch. He reminded himself again and again that he needed the nutrition, otherwise his body would shot down completely – something he couldn’t afford.

 

When his body overcame the nausea, he felt much needed strength return. He felt so strong that he stood up and didn’t fall back down.

 

Garrett felt cornered.

He should be out in the city, doing what he did best. However, his weakened body was keeping him and his young apprentice hostage, keeping them stationary. Garrett didn’t like stationary... made him itch and made him even worse company than he usually was.

 

Garrett recognized that he was too sick to go out, even if it was just to get a hold of a physician and get some food. He was much too sick to take the boy with him.

Their new location was at least sheltered and offered warmth and water and even a couple of cans of beans more to eat. They could stay put for a couple of days without starving.

 

He’d not forgotten the dried blood in the sputum. In fact, he as having a hard time not thinking about it. He sighed and shivered; his body could use a good rest.

However, the boy was getting restless and the master thief didn’t blame him. They might as well get the best out of the situation.

 

Garrett gestured the boy to follow without saying anything and went downstairs to the main production hall with the highest ceiling.

It was filled with cross beams in both metal and wood, machines of all kinds, and countless cargo boxes and barrels. For a training ground, it was perfect.

 

Garrett drilled the boy mercilessly through all sorts of strengthening exercises that involved carrying and lifting his own weight.

Garrett sent him climbing the top of the room and touching the ceiling. Garrett then shot off the lights and asked the boy to climb down again.

Will was very insecure in the dark, he found. It took him hours to get down.

Garrett said nothing. At least for the first couple of days, he would allow the boy his childish fear. After that, he would punish it.

 

The boy slept well that day. Garrett didn’t fall asleep, it was more like he lapsed into unconsciousness.

 


	8. Paying debts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett has to pay his debt and takes young Will with him to Johnson's.

He was dying, he realized. He felt it in his bones that morning as a lingering weakness that didn’t fade that was unfamiliar to him. The wet cough that produced blood flecked puss sealed it.  
Garrett was not prone to sentimentality or self pity. However, he would be lying if he said that the dawning realization didn’t cause a stir inside of him.

 He sent Will down stairs for the last can of beans and slumped into the rich couch as the kid left. He stared for a while into nothingness, but then shook it off of him. To wallow in self-pity and despair wouldn’t help. He stood and tested his trembling body; stretched and flexed all the major muscle groups. The most positive thing he could conclude from that was that his body was obeying him for the time being. His logic mind kicked back in. He needed sustenance. He needed to eat well and regularly so, otherwise it would be a question of a week or two before he would give out. Next step was to see if his condition could be reversed. He needed to find a physician and a good one at that.

The rain that had drizzled down steadily for days had finally stopped and the wind had died down completely. The night sky was cloudy and with no moon. The humidity the rain had brought and dropping temperatures created a thick fog. It was Garret’s favourite kind of weather; above freezing and extremely limited visibility.

Will followed him like his shadow with surprising stealth that simply came natural to him. Garrett acknowledged the talent, but also recognized the kind of work it would take before he was strong enough to race across roof tops. The boy was malnourished and it would be years before his body would be able to much else than repair itself, much less to grow or build muscle. Garrett cast him a sideways glance; Will was in danger of never reaching an acceptable adult height, which would make his life more difficult. Any sort of confrontation with guards would be difficult to handle and every jump he would have to make would have to be longer and higher, leading to extra wear on joints and would eventually lead to early retirement... or death, depending on the situation, he mused and coughed wetly into the nook of his elbow, his chest rumbling loudly.

Garrett signalled the boy to follow and stayed in the shadows along the streets and steadily found their shady corridor back into the city.  
The master thief ignored his trembling limbs and treacherous lungs and pushed through it, seizing control, but also knowing that it would cost him in the long run.

He swiftly went to the clock tower and restocked his finances. On a whim he checked for his old leather armour from when he’d been an apprentice himself, where he’d been younger... and smaller. He found it at the bottom of his garment chest and tried it on. It fit him far better than it should have and it was with a sense of defeat that he left the new one behind. He fastened it tightly and it gave his rebroken ribs much needed stability. However, it also hindered his breathing quite a bit.

Will didn’t mention his change of clothes. One of the perks of having a mute apprentice.

At Johnson’s Dunstan was drinking a pint, which someone had bought him for a job well done against the Thieftaker; Garrett’s undertaking. He was surrounded by burly men, lining up to pat him on his back and crossing their fingers for getting a shot at being a part of his crew. Garrett didn’t have to say anything. As soon as it was noticed he was standing there, the group parted, making a path to Dunstan for Garrett. He supposed it was a small sign of respect, mostly for Dunstan, but a little for him as well - It certainly wasn’t because they feared him.  
“Master Thief,” Dunstan exclaimed and raised his glass. Garrett touched his cowl in a mock inclination of his hat. Dunstan’s eyes spotted the boy that followed in silence, clearly not comfortable with the situation.  
“You’ve grown a second shadow,” Dunstan commented, eyes returning to the master and took a sip of his beer, “-new apprentice?”  
Garrett cast Will a glance.  
“Yes,” he answered with a sigh. Dunstan looked puzzled.  
“Seems like a strange time to take an apprentice, if you don’t mind me saying,” Dunstan tried.  
“Really?” Garret’s voice was thick with irony and Dunstan’s eyes narrowed.  
“Then why? It seems almost like a desperate act, when you’re looking like that?” Dunstan gestured at him, “-you know.”  
“I’m painfully aware,” Garrett snarled in a low voice, loosing his patience for once, but forcefully removed the irritation from his visage, “-The Queen imposed on me.”  
Dunstan’s eyebrows went an inch upwards, “The queen?” he laughed with genuine surprise, “-why on earth do you deal with her? I have always wondered.”  
“I’m wondering that myself sometimes,” Garrett sighed again and ended up coughing, but then produced a coin purse, a heavy one, and placed it on the counter in front of the larger man, “-for services rendered with thanks.”  
“Worked like a charm, right?” Dunstan couldn’t help but smile at this own accomplishment, “-a thing of beauty, if I must say so myself.”  
Garrett smiled politely and nodded, “-I should get going again.”  
“Busy night?” Dunstan asked good naturedly.  
“I certainly hope not,” Garrett answered truthfully and grimaced when he lapsed into coughing fit again.  
“And what’s this I hear about Erin?” Dunstan interjected, as if he suddenly remembered, “she’s lost?”  
Garrett grew dark and Dunstan studied him intently.  _Lost_  was not something a person could be forever – sooner rather than later she would have to be either  _redeemed_  or  _dead_.  
“What did you see?” Dunstan asked further, all humour gone, when he didn’t answer. Garrett shook his head and clenched his fists.  
“I’m not sure, Dunstan. She’s definitely lost,” Garrett faltered, when the cough overtook him again and stole away his composure and breath away. He nearly stumbled, when his ribs suddenly sent sharp stabbing pains through his chest. Grasping at the counter with one white knuckled hand and the other hand flying to his chest, he managed to keep himself upright, but only just. Dunstan almost reached out to catch him with a worried mine. The ailing master thief looked stiffly at the floor while he drew short deliberate breaths to calm himself, carefully avoiding Duntan’s gaze.  
“I’ll check up on Erin,” Garrett croaked and straightened up again.  
“You will?” Dunstan asked in near disbelief, “-maybe you should let me? It seems you need some rest, Garrett?”  
“No, I’ll look into it,” Garrett insisted, “I’m afraid you won’t give her the benefit of the doubt.”  
“And I’m afraid that you will,” he quickly countered. Garrett nodded once.  
“Good night, Dunstan,” Garrett ended and turned to leave.  
“Take care, Garrett. Rest up. I’ll see you around,” Dunstan replied in an ominous low voice. Garret concluded he’d already regarded him as out of the game. It didn’t matter. What would be, would be.

 Outside Will tugged at his cape. Garrett didn’t turn.  
“I know, I’ve seen them,” he acknowledged and the tugging stopped. There were people following him from the bar, no doubt looking for the price on his head. There were three of them; one big burly fellow and two of slighter build. All of them heavier than Garrett currently was and with his weakened state a direct confrontation was out of the picture. They would have to disappear and he tensed up further thinking he would have to get Will out of there too.  
“Be ready,” he whispered to Will and then they turned a corner, where he guided the boy up a wagon, loaded with crates, which led them to the roof tops. Garrett helped the boy up, maintaining their stealth and trying not to rush or think about the three fellows that would turn the corner in seconds.  
Safely on the roof, Garrett sent an exploding arrow to the of the load of crates, effectively knocking every single one of them down and blocking the street. They wouldn’t be able to follow any time soon, Garrett noted with a sense of satisfaction.  
However, the noise had awoken the nearby inhabitants and they were beginning to stir. Garrett’s natural instinct was to crouch deeper – not to run. He was pleased that Will’s initial reaction matched his own. The human eye would pick up on movement far faster than a slow deliberate flow through the shadows, he knew. The sound of Will’s thundering heart beat told him that the boy was scared beyond belief, his blue eyes wide and looking insecurely to Garrett. He breathed in gusts.

Garrett signalled him to go lower in his crouch and to follow. Slowly, they made it across the roofs away from the streets, unto roofs that sloped into a different courtyard, away from the noise and prying eyes. Garrett let out the breath he’d been holding and immediately lapsed into coughing. Behind him, Will jerked at the loud wet sound. The spasms tore at Garrett’s abused chest, causing him pure agony and he tried to will it down, but it was relentless. He felt panic nipping as his senses as he struggled to draw breath in between. He quickly signaled to Will to descend. They needed to get to the ground. The cough was loud and wet and out of control. Garrett couldn’t grasp why it didn’t wake anybody until he remembered that it was a common ailment to have in these gloomy times.  
Fighting for each breath, for each foothold and grasp, they made it down to ground level again.

 Garrett coughed until he could scarcely breathe and he seemed to shrink with each spasm.  
A great paw of a hand grabbed his shoulder. Instinctively he dodged under it and was about to jump to the nearest shadow, when his knees buckled under him, instead sending him to the ground. His own pulse thundered in his ears now, fear distorting his senses and he crept away from the assailant. The coughed exploded in his chest again and he resigned himself that he would meet his end this undignified way.  
No killing blow came.  
“Garrett?” came an innocent baritone whisper. Will seemed immediately to understand that the large stranger meant no harm and stepped forward and nodded intensively. Will demonstratively clapped his chest a couple of times and looked to Garrett again.  
“You sick, Garrett?” the stranger asked a little louder, seemingly understanding the boy’s charades.   
“Basso?” the master thief croaked out between coughs.  
“Yeah yeah, come here,” Basso assured him and moved closer and hoisted Garrett to his feet like he was nothing. Relief flooded over Garrett like a tidal wave. He couldn’t remember ever having been so glad to see Basso. He wanted to tell him, but the retched cough stopped him.

Garrett blacked out.


End file.
